Today it’s been two years since Labang Lu left her beloved village. There she took care of her garden, chatted with her neighbours and cooked for the whole family. There she watched her children grow up and there she buried her husband.
“I’m very attached to my home,” Labang Lu tells. The seventy-three-year-old woman sits across me in an unsteady plastic chair. She is tiny. I can see her dark grey hair underneath her red and green coloured headscarf.
I’m visiting a camp for internal displaced people in Bhamo, a city in Kachin state in north-eastern Myanmar. The people who live here have fled from violence between the government and armed groups. Side by side, they live in small houses made of bamboo. The houses have the same yellowish colour as the dusty streets in the camp. There is little space and people everywhere; inside the small houses, outside and in the street. Some children play in the street, while others help grown-ups with domestic chores, do homework or take care of their younger siblings.
When the bullets fled through my kitchen window, I understood that I had to flee.Labang Lu, 73 years old
In a large brick house,the Norwegian Refugee Council (NRC) hosts a meeting for people in the camp. Young and old, women and men, were brought together because of the violence forcing them to flee their homes. Now they all pay attention while NRC employees explain how they can participate in the small community they joined involuntarily.
Labang Lu is one of the oldest people attending the meeting. She took a break to tell me her story. We sat down on the terrace outside the seminar room. Encircled by lines, her eyes smiled like only seventy-three-years-old eyes can smile. But when she started taking about what she fled from, her face soon turned serious.
Life was good at home in her village. There she lived with her family and friends. They had animals and a small piece of land where they cultivated vegetables. Now she lives here, in a camp for people fleeing. Her children and grandchildren live in Bhamo. Sometimes she lives with them, but she cannot afford renting her own place.
“Life here is difficult,” Labang Lu sighs.
In 2015, she had to flee at the age of 71. A while ago, she had a heart attack and depends on medicine every day.
“I cannot afford medicines. I think the government should help me.”
After fifty years of military rule, Myanmar had its first civil elections in 2015. Despite the change towards democracy, several states are still hit by violence. The conflict between the government and armed groups continues. In the past years, more than hundreds of thousands of people have fled Shan, Kachin and Rakhine states.
The fighting also reached Labang Lu’s village. Then, her neighbours and family fled. Eventually, she was left alone, but she refused to leave her dear home. It was too difficult to leave it all behind.
One day the soldiers aimed at her house.
“When the bullets fled through my kitchen window, I understood that I had to flee.”
In the kitchen, Labang Lu had packed a bag in case she had to flee, but it was left behind. She had to run for her life.
“I had to run and I didn’t even have time to bring my bag with me.”
She left everything and ran as fast as she could. For hours, she walked in the woods all alone. Until she found the nearest village. She was lucky. There was a tuk-tuk in the village, a kind of motorbike with a platform on. The driver called her.
“‘Grandma’, he yelled at me. ‘Grandma,’ come here!’”
Labang Lu went over to the driver, and he drove her all the way to Bhamo.
She has lived here since then.
“Please, tell my story and tell people what we have lost. We lost our land, our farms, our animals, our houses and all our belongings.”
With tears in her eyes and an angry voice, she says:
“I don’t want to die here in Bhamo. I want to go home as soon as possible.”
